


Pleasure

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2014 [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya tires of waiting for Jaqen to return from an assignment and goes to find him in Lys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasure

There were pleasure houses in Lys devoted to every conceivable kind of sexual practice, from the most mundane to the peculiar. She had experienced the brothels and concubines in Braavos, but it was a far cry from a city that seemed to be built on the economy of pleasure. Her duties had brought her to the city, but it was a personal business that she had in the pleasure house devoted to the Lord of Light.  
  
The air was warm and heavy with the heat of the dozens of braziers burning throughout the room, and the bodies within it, a sea of red, gold, and white within. She stood out from both patrons and attendants alike, her own clothes as dark as a starless night sky. She wore the hood of her cloak low, casting her face in shadow, without adornment of any kind, save for the slight glint of metal where buckles held the fabric closed at her chest. It was only a matter of moments before an older woman in a long, heavy red gown approached her.  
  
Arya whispered a few brief words to her before she nodded, and led her through the circular main room. She was looking for a man, and there were certainly plenty of them there to be found. Some were as young and wide-eyed as she had been when she first left her home, while others were older, with silvery-blonde hair thick across their chests. The woman spoke highly of each of them, their gifts and specialties, as one who had sampled each of them herself, but Arya merely shook her head before they moved onto the next. It wasn't until they reached the back of the room, where the light flickered and cast long shadows, that she found what she was looking for.  
  
The woman had barely opened her mouth to speak when Arya raised her hand and pointed. The man had sleek white-blonde hair that fell in faint waves past his shoulders and eyes that seemed to cut straight through her. The face may not have been familiar to her, but his eyes and the jagged scar that stretched across his side she knew anywhere. Once she'd learned his tricks, she found that what he chose not to change was far more fascinating than the things that shifted from face to face; though she still liked to think he did it for her benefit alone.  
  
"Are you certain he's the one you want?" the woman whispered, an air of condescension in her voice. It was true, he wasn't nearly as lovely as some of the others, but he was the one she had come here for.  
  
Arya said nothing. Instead, she reached into her cloak and produced a weighted bag of coins. She dropped it unceremoniously into the woman's hand, the sound of metal clinking against metal signaling the end of the conversation. The woman nodded and motioned for the young man to stand, letting him lead Arya past the silks and curtains, further into the temple.   
  
She walked a pace behind him, watching the muscles in his body as he moved, his pants slung low on his hips and a length of pale gold silk wrapped lazily over one shoulder and around his waist. He led her down a short corridor and to a small room, as much aglow in flame as the rest of the temple. A large bed stood in the center of the room, draped in sheer red and gold fabric with ornate embroidery on the large pillows that decorated it. But it was simply another room, without a hint of anything personal to say it might have been _his_.  
  
He closed the door behind her, then stood, waiting for her instruction. Finally, Arya pushed back the hood of her cloak and dusted the hair away from her eyes, tilting her head to look up at him.  
  
A faint grin slipped across his face, "Lovely girl…" he purred, amusement rich in his voice. "Have you come here to kill me?"  
  
"What if I have?" she asked, though they both knew that could never be the case. It was the one rule she chose to follow, for his sake alone.  
  
"Then it would be the sweetest death I've ever had," he said. He strode towards her, his grin deepening the closer he came, and slid his hand across the flesh of her throat to cup her jaw. He leaned in close, daring to kiss her, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
She tipped her head up, having to rise onto the toes of her boots to press her lips against his. He responded as eagerly as ever, his free hand sliding around her waist to hoist her up and against his body. With her eyes closed and her arms wound tight around his shoulders, she could tell no difference between the man pressed against her and the man she had gotten used to sharing her bed with back in Braavos. It wasn't often that they were brought together like this outside of the House of Black and White, but Arya had come back from her own time abroad only to find that he had yet to return and it was worth the fee to board a ship on its way to Lys to find him again. She wouldn't be returning again without him, no matter how much time that took.  
  
He set her back down again, slowly pulling away from the embrace as he smoothed her wild curls back from her face. He lifted his hands to undo the clasp at the front of her cloak, but she batted his hands away and pushed him towards the bed.  
  
"I've paid for you," she said, her gray gaze searing through him. "First, you'll show me what I've bought."  
  
He barely raised an eyebrow before answering her command and unwrapping the fabric that clung tight to his chest. With that discarded, he loosened the laces at the front of his pants and slipped them down from his hips. He wore nothing more underneath, and only needed to step from the puddle of cloth at his feet to complete the display. Arya paced slowly around him, inspecting this body so that she might know every inch of it as well as the old one.  
  
"How many?" she murmured.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised slightly, "What do you mean?"  
  
"How many patrons have you had since you arrived here?"  
  
She could almost watch as a faint blushed crept up his cheeks, "Seven."  
  
Arya looked at him incredulously, "Seven? Is that all? What fault have the others found in you?"  
  
"A man had to be trained," he replied.  
  
Arya snorted. "They had to train you to be a better lover? I guess it's a good thing that I had nothing to compare you to before, isn't it?" She came back around in front of him, giving him another brief glance, then reached up to undo the buckle on her cloak. "Show me what you've learned."  
  
As she swept her cloak from her shoulders, he stepped towards her, the braziers casting a gold glow across his skin and lighting up his pale blue eyes. There was a blush of something more than just heat spread from his cheeks down his neck and shoulders, that spoke more truthfully than his words could ever dare. This time, when he lifted his hands to undress her, she allowed it. He carefully loosened the belts high around her waist and unwrapped the loose, dark fabric from her body, letting it fall to the floor at her feet.  
  
His fingers skimmed softly up her bare arms and over her shoulders, lingering for a moment at the hollows between her throat and collarbones. As one hand slipped towards the back of her neck, he curled his fingers on the other under her jaw. He slowly coaxed her forward, his lips ghosting across her before he finally pressed in earnestly. His kisses had always made her breath catch, but the languid way he moved and the almost reverent way that he touched her now made her head spin.  
  
Arya put her hands to his chest, breaking from the kiss as she nudged him back towards the bed. He smirked at her and reached out for her hand, to coax her along with him. She followed easily enough, sliding onto the bed next to him, and urged him onto his back. He grinned up at her, propping himself up on his elbows as she straddled his waist. She dragged her fingertips across his chest, tracing the shape of his collarbones and down the center of his chest, dancing across the lines of his ribs.  
  
"You know what I want you to do, don't you?" she asked, dropping forward on her hands and knees.  
  
Beneath her, Jaqen gripped her waist and nodded. He shifted steadily beneath her, sliding further down the bed until he had to let go of her to moved his arms behind her legs, his shoulders jutting up against the back of her thighs. Jaqen dragged his hands down her back and over her backside, gripping her thighs as she raised up onto her knees. She slid her hands down into his hair, twisting her fingers through the thick strands as he arranged himself, then slowly dragged her body down. The first press of his tongue had her hips bucking slightly against the warmth, tightening her fists to draw his head closer to her.  
  
She felt him slide one hand away from her backside and craned her head to see over her shoulder, watching as his hand slid down to wrap around himself. She had a thought to stop him, to tell him he wasn't getting anything until she was done with him, but then he did _something_ with his mouth that made her lose all coherent thought. Arya pitched forward onto her hands again, sucking in a sharp breath. Under her, she could feel him shift, the obvious rhythm of him arm moving as he started to stroke himself off in rhythm with his teasing. He might not have gotten away with this so easily, but it had been a long time since they'd been together, and Arya hadn't been with anyone else since they last time she was with him. The thought had certainly occurred to her, but it wasn't worth the time it would take to teach someone else how to touch her; Jaqen knew it effortlessly.  
  
But she'd waited long enough already and felt no desire to wait any longer; if he wanted to touch himself then she wouldn't stop him, as long as he kept touching her as well. Once she had steadied herself, she reached down between her legs to tangle her fingers in his hair again, rolling her hips to press him deeper, harder against her body, feeling him groan into her in response. She could feel the bed tremble with their movements, his shoulder jutting against the back of her thigh with each stroke. It was too easy to get lost in the movements, in the warmth of the room and the overwhelming encompassing feeling that twist through her and around her. When she came, it was with a shudder and a heavy groan; it took every ounce of strength she had to keep herself up on her hands afterward. She wanted to collapse forward, but at the same time, she didn't want to lose the feeling of his tongue sliding against her, even though each sweep past the threshold made her body jerk and another eager whine fall from her lips.  
  
Jaqen was the one who moved, however, sliding out from under her and rolling onto his knees. He gathered his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, his cock sliding between her wet thighs. Arya let her head lull back against his shoulder, reaching down to hold onto his thighs as he rolled his hips against her, dangerously close, but never sliding inside her. She hadn't given him permission, and he wouldn't take that liberty until she did. Instead, she twisted her body in his arms and slid one hand to the side of his neck to drag him forward into a kiss. She pressed into him like she wanted his very last breath, her lips not leaving his until his hips stuttered and he came between her thighs.  
  
He held tight to her, both arms wrapped around her narrow middle, panting hard against her mouth. Their bodies stuck together with sweat-slicked skin and their hearts beating so fast it could be mistaken for some rhythm. Arya breathed a shaky laugh and nipped at his lower lip.  
  
"How much longer do I have you for?" she asked.  
  
"The night," Jaqen replied.


End file.
